


The Job Interview

by Dbaw3



Series: The Benefactor [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Objectification, Watersports, human urinal, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dbaw3/pseuds/Dbaw3
Summary: Stiles needs a job. There just happens to be an opening for someone of his skill set at the trendy new restaurant, The Benefactor.





	The Job Interview

“So, Mr. Stilinski,” Peter Hale said, sitting behind his desk. “Your father tells me you’re looking for a job.”

“That’s right, sir,” Stiles said politely. “Thank you for considering me.”

Hale looked at him intently, and Stiles tried not to squirm. Peter Hale was part of one of the oldest families in Beacon Hills and his restaurant, The Benefactor, was pretty much as upscale as they got around here. Stiles didn’t generally feel intimidated by anyone, but there was something about Hale that was both confident and casual in his power. Like no one should ever question it.

“Let me be honest with you,” Peter said. “This is a job, and we need someone who will be here, on time, and fulfill the duties given to him. I’m not looking for a hobbiest or a fetishist. I see you didn’t even last a month at your last position.”

Stiles flushed, in equal parts embarrassed and indignant. He knew that wouldn’t look good. “In case you didn’t hear, it got shut down,” Stiles said, probably a lot more shortly than he should at a job interview.

“Yes, and who was it that did that?” Hale asked sarcastically. “Oh, right, your father, the Sheriff. Who’s to say your father won’t shut us down, if he doesn’t like how you’re treated here?”

Now Stiles really did feel indignant. “Do you have illegal drug deals go down in the bathroom?” Stiles asked, just as sarcastically. “No? Then you should be fine”

Hale stared at him for another moment, before breaking out into a toothy smile. With very pointy teeth. “You do have spine, Mr. Stilinski. It’s good to see.”

Hale pulled out his application and short resume from a file on his desk while Stiles breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t blown the interview. “I see you’re a registered urophiliac,” Hale said, almost to himself.

“Yes, sir, since I was 13.” And hadn’t that been a fun doctor’s visit with his dad, the doctor having to explain that not only did his son crave urine, but actually needed hormones and nutrients supplied in male urine, specifically, for continued good health. His dad had a rough time getting used to the idea, hesitant to let his own son drink his urine and even refusing to piss directly into Stiles’ mouth, but after a while, it became routine for him not only to use Stiles to relieve himself, it was normal for him to nudge Stiles awake in the middle of the night to take a semi-asleep piss in.

And he was a great dad, helping Stiles be the best uro he could be, teaching him how to drink at the natural pace of the man needing to relieve himself. Stiles still got choked up, remembering his mother smiling approvingly at them both, as John stood in front of his son, his steady stream entering Stiles’ mouth, as he said, “Okay, son, I’m going to go a little bit faster. Try to swallow more.”

These days, the Sheriff not only supported Stiles, but actively encouraged his extra curricular activities which surrounded what some might consider his disability, and instead turned it into an opportunity. Hence his help finding Stiles a job while he waited for his first semester of college to begin.

“Hm,” Hale hummed, still looking at the resume, though Stiles knew it was pretty thin. “Well, aside from the brief stint at The Jungle, I see you were also on Beacon Hills High lacrosse team. Were you a player?”

Stiles smiled ruefully. “I was a benchwarmer, which made it easier to slip into the position of team urinal, honestly,” he admitted.

“But you did travel with the team? Provide your services to them both for home and away games?” Hale continued.

“And during practice, yes,” Stiles supplied. It really had been easy. At that point, most everyone who came to their house knew about Stiles’ condition, and had used Stiles more than once to pee into. Stiles even had special permission to carry around a water bottle to class filled with urine (normally his father’s, but Scott occasionally supplied a bottle or two), in case he got peaky during the school day. When Coach started making noise about kicking him off the team, Stiles, who honestly loved lacrosse, even if he himself had to admit he wasn’t very good at it, had gone to him to suggest the new position he could fill. Coach seemed reluctant at first, but soon had to admit it was much more convenient for the players to use Stiles, right there at the end of the bench, rather than going all the way back to the school or local park facilities to “drain the lizard.” 

“You smell a lot better than a Honey Bucket, too, Bilinski,” Coach also noted once, loudly, as he relieved himself in Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles had just rolled his eyes and kept swallowing.

“Be that as it may,” Hale said, cutting into Stiles’ memories, sitting back in his chair. “This is a business and I conduct it as one. If there are any problems, I won’t hesitate to fire you, Sheriff’s son or no.”

Stiles sat up straighter. “Does that mean I get the job?” he asked, smiling.

Hale smirked at him and moved to stand. “That means you get the extended interview,” he explained, leading the way out of his office. “I want to do a trial run, as it were, this afternoon. We’ll install you before the early kitchen staff come in, and if you can handle just the employees’ needs during the day, then we’ll see how you do during the evening service tomorrow. Sound good?”

Stiles stood up quickly and held out his hand. “Sounds perfect, Mr. Hale,” Stiles said, trying not to sound too eager. He didn’t need this job that seriously, but his first semester at college would go quite a bit more smoothly if he had the extra spending money, and he didn’t want to ask his dad for any more than he had to.

“Feel free to call me Peter,” Hale said, smiling with too many teeth again. “Let me show you to your ‘office.’“

Peter led the way through the restaurant until they reached the public restrooms located near the kitchen.

“The early kitchen prep should be getting here shortly, so if you could strip,” Peter said calmly, gesturing.

Stiles glanced at the space he would be occupying for a while, if all went well, as he started to undress. The men’s room contained two stalls, set off to the side, and two sinks, with mirrors over both. Set opposite them and slightly to the side (so that it did not appear directly in the mirrors), was a fairly typical urinal installation space: what looked at first glance like an old fashioned urinal, with padded seat. Slightly to the front and below, where Stiles would expect to see a simple drain, there was what appeared to be a black, adjustable cuff, plus two wrist restraints on the side.

“You can place your clothing in here,” Peter said, opening a door to a small supply closet just to the left of the urinal station. When Stiles had done so, he turned to sit in the station, testing it for comfort. The chair itself was quite comfortable, but…

“Please place your penis in the cuff,” Peter said. Stiles looked at the cuff then up at Peter’s bland expression dubiously, but did as he was told.

Peter reached down to adjust a knob near the cuff, and Stiles felt it tightening near the opening, towards the base of his dick.

“Hey,” he said, somewhat in protest, though it wasn’t actually uncomfortable.

“There we are,” Peter said, as if Stiles had made no noise. “That should be enough to allow you to urinate while keeping you from getting too excited, as it were.”

Stiles relaxed slightly at the words. It was required, by public decency laws and health codes, that a uro remained covered while on duty and not show an obvious erection. Normally, this meant wearing at least a pouch if not shorts, but that also meant that he had to wait for breaks to piss or sit in his own wet shorts, which was never fun, but inevitable, considering how much liquid he consumed. This way he’d be both decent and allowed to pee freely as needed.

“And one last thing, of course,” Peter continued, and Stiles allowed him to take each of his hands and secure them into the cuffs at either side of his station. Another requirement for uros working as public urinals: they must have their hands secured so that there was no question of any public indecency occurring. Normally, in Stiles’ experience, this meant having his hands tied with rope, as he’d had to be at The Jungle. This, though, was certainly a more sleek and modern-looking design, and Stiles noticed that while it certainly kept him secure (and prevented him from being able to touch any of the customers inappropriately), it did not put any undue strain on his shoulders and was actually fairly comfortable.

“There we are,” Peter said, standing back to examine his handiwork. “My nephew will normally be the one to install you when you get in and uninstall you for breaks and at the end of the night. He also might check on you from time to time, as he does quality checks of both the restrooms.” 

Peter then reached for his fly, pulling out his cock casually before stepping forward and inserting it into Stiles’ mouth, then releasing a torrent of piss into Stiles’ mouth without another word.

So, Stiles thought as he swallowed his first mouthful, this was how his first day at The Benefactor was starting.

Peter finished relatively quickly, obviously not having a full bladder, but wanting to give the new urinal a try. When he was done, he pulled his cock from Stiles’ mouth, tapping the head of his dick lightly on his bottom lip to dislodge the last drops from his slit, before tucking himself away. Without another word, he went to the sink to wash his hands, then quickly left the restroom.

The problem with being a professional urinal was that there were long stretches of boredom where no one would be using him. At home, he could go about his life, reading or studying or watching TV until his dad or his friends that were over asked him to come with them to the bathroom. If his dad had a cookout for the guys at the department–not unusual during the summer–Stiles would work “outhouse” duty, but even then, it just meant he’d be hanging out near a sheltered corner of the house, allowed to chat with any of his friends who might be there until someone needed to use his mouth. In a situation like this, all he could do was sit and wait for someone to need him. Mostly, he sat there and made lists of things he needed to do before leaving for college.

Fortunately, the kitchen staff must have started to come in, because shortly after he was installed, two guys came into the restroom talking loudly.

“Hey,” the shorter one said, breaking off the conversation. “Looks like Peter got us a new urinal.” He was already unzipping his fly as he was speaking. 

“Hopefully this one will work better than the last one,” the talker man said, from where he was washing his hands at the sink. 

The man in front of Stiles sighed as he began to piss and Stiles started to swallow. “Well, it doesn’t smell like bubblegum and weed, so I’m going to consider it a plus,” he said, raising one hand above his head and bracing himself against the wall as he continued to piss.

“I’m sure Derek will be relieved,” the guy at the sink said, obviously waiting his turn. “He hated having to clean that one.”

Pissing guy replied with a grunt as his stream tapered off and paused for a second, which Stiles took as his cue to suck gently the last piss hanging to the guy’s cockhead.

As the second guy stepped forward and his friend went to wash up, Stiles opened his mouth again to accept the new cock and piss stream. This guy obviously ate a lot of asparagus, Stiles noticed, trying not to wince as he swallowed. 

An hour more passed as various members of the restaurant staff came in and relieved themselves, some using him, some going into the stall nearby. 

Not long after, a man walked in, broad-shouldered and with five-o’clock shadow. Rather than walk directly to stand in front of the urinal, as Stiles assumed he would, he walked to the supply closet and opened it, pulling out some cleaning supplies, including a rag and a mop and bucket.

The man walked over to the sinks, and wet the rag, wiping down the sinks and counter around them. He then went back to the closet and pulled out a bottle Stiles recognized as being a human-grade cleaner (marketed as Sparkle Them! The human urinal cleaner! This one was the lavender scent, which Stiles preferred.) and proceeded to wipe Stiles down from his face down to his cuffed penis. 

Stiles appreciated the cleaning: one of the line cooks had come in a while ago and, instead of inserting his penis in Stiles’ mouth, had stood with it a couple of inches away to piss into him, and his aim, deliberate or not, had not been the greatest, so he’d had dribbles of urine all down his front for the last half hour. He also appreciated that the man cleaning him off had a firm hand, but not an overly rough one. Stiles didn’t expect much gentleness from those who cleaned him–you’re needing to clean a public urinal, it’s not the best job in the world, and everyone wants it over quickly–but it was always nice when they realized flesh was a little more fragile than porcelain.

Stiles also found himself appreciating how attractive the man wiping him down so intently was, and was grateful for the cuff around his penis which prevented him from throwing a woody. (Stiles always had a tendency to get an erection, ever since puberty, when he was servicing his dad and his friends. Most were kind not to mention it, though some would joke about how cute it was when a toilet got a chub, and Stiles found that kind of ‘guy-talk’ wasn’t meant to be cruel, just the locker room-style camaraderie you’d expect when guys are alone together.)

The cleaning of the urinal complete, the man went to rinse out the rag, and replaced those items back in the supply closet and started to mop the floor, including under Stiles, moving his legs as needed to get where he needed to go.

Once that was done and all supplies were put away, the man looked around the restroom once more before walking to the door. Before he left, though, he spoke for the first time, in a surprisingly light voice, “Twenty minutes,” and then closed the door behind him. Stiles wasn’t sure entirely what that meant–twenty minutes left in the interview or just until his break?–but he shrugged it off. 

Stiles kept thinking about the handsome man–who he assumed was Derek, the one Peter mentioned did quality checks on the restrooms–and was caught up in thoughts when the next employee came in.

The man was one who had already relieved himself into Stiles earlier in the afternoon, but he didn’t immediately approach Stiles, as he came in while talking on his cell phone, and leaned against the sinks, obviously having come in for a little privacy with his call.

“Yeah, baby, of course I love you,” he said. Stiles tried not to roll his eyes, and also not eavesdrop on his conversation, which was difficult to do, as it soon became apparent the guy was having phone sex with his girlfriend as he rubbed at his crotch through his chef pants, and saying things like, “Oh, yeah? I’d like that, baby.”

It wasn’t long before the man’s breathing got really heavy and he was actively grabbing at his crotch. “Hold on, Jenny, give me a second,” he said, and went over to the restroom door and threw the lock.

When he walked over to stand in front of Stiles, eagerly pulling his hardened cock out of his pants, and jerking frantically in his face as he said into his phone, “Yeah, baby, suck it. You know what I like.”

Stiles opened his mouth with a barely suppressed sigh. This, too, was something he was used to, both from his brief time at The Jungle and last summer when he was installed in the men’s room at the Sheriff’s station. (He’d liked working there near his dad, but had been only an unpaid internship, since the county didn’t have any room in the budget for a human urinal at the station. And Stiles had really needed the money for college, hence his job hunting.) And he couldn’t count the number of times the guys, especially after winning a game, would jerk off on or in him in the locker room afterwards. Just another duty, and as long as he wasn’t giving blowjobs, considered perfectly legitimate use.

Cellphone guy started to speed up his hand, and panted lots of “Yeah, I’m close,” and “Suck there, baby,” before he started shooting rope after rope of white cum into Stiles’ open mouth, but also across his face and chest.

“Fuck!” he muttered as he squeezed out the last directly into Stiles’ mouth, then rested the edge of his dick on Stiles’ bottom lip for a moment as he tried to get his breath back, the last few dribbles falling directly into his mouth to join the rest.

Assuming it was over, Stiles closed his mouth and gently licked the guy’s dick clean, finally swallowing the mouth full of cum. It wasn’t Stiles’ favorite thing about being a urinal, but it was part of the job.

When the man got his breath back and pulled away, phone still to his ear, he muttered, “Shit,” and walked quickly over to the sinks as he tucked himself back in his pants.

“Not you, babe,” he said into the phone. “Just got my jizz all over the toilet. Derek’s going to kill me,” he muttered as he grabbed some paper towels and walked back over to Stiles, wiping his face and chest down with a lot less care and gentleness than Derek had when cleaning him earlier. 

Stepping back after the quick wipe down, he was examining Stiles to see if he needed further cleaning, when someone started banging on the door.

“Dammit, Luis,” the person on the other side yelled, “quit jerking off and open the door. Some of us have to piss.”

Luis muttered to himself, threw away the paper towels in his hand, and quickly went to the door. 

“Can’t you keep it in your pants until you get home?” the incensed man standing in the doorway demanded, even as Luis scurried past him. 

The man who’d been waiting took one look at Stiles, wrinkled his nose, and walked over to the toilet stall instead.

Stiles didn’t bother suppressing his sigh this time. He’d wonder how bad he looked, but he could feel the semen Luis hadn’t managed to clean off in his haste drying on his face.

The fact that the next two people who came in also took one look at Stiles before heading to the stall just confirmed how bad he must look.

Thankfully, it was apparently finally time for his break, as Derek came in next. He looked at Stiles, rolled his eyes and sighed, before opening the supply closet and pulling out the cleaning supplies again.

After wiping him down a second time, this time getting off the last bits of semen the other man had missed while muttering, “Fucking Luis,” Derek reached for his restraints and started to uninstall him.

While Derek was just finishing up removing Stiles from the penis cuff–and Stiles was chanting in his own head “Do not get hard, do not get hard” while the good looking man was that near his dick–Peter walked into the restroom in a startling dramatic fashion.

“Well, how did that go?” he asked with that same enigmatic smile from earlier. 

Stiles, who had finally stood up and stretched, knew he could finally speak again, and said, “No problems on this end.”

Derek had moved to lean back against the sinks casually, and seemed to be intently staring at Stiles. Stiles continued to tell himself mentally to keep his penis in check under that scrutiny.

“I’ve heard nothing but glowing feedback on our new urinal,” Peter commented, then turned to his nephew. “What do you think, Derek?”

Derek shrugged, but kept looking at Stiles. “He’s a urinal. Didn’t puke. I think that’s all the credentials needed,” he said drily. 

Peter rolled his eyes in a remarkably similar gesture to Derek’s just a little while ago, and turned back to Stiles.

“Does this mean I get the job,” Stiles said eagerly.

Peter seemed to think about it for the moment, but then said, “I don’t see why not.”

Stiles punched the air in excitement, and both men rolled their eyes in unison, which Stiles found slightly hilarious. 

“Only question is, do you want to start fresh tomorrow or do you think you can start tonight? Dinner service begins in about ten minutes,” Peter said.

Stiles looked back at his station then over at Derek before settling back in to his previous seat. “Bring ‘em on,” he said with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr.


End file.
